


Against All Odds

by Eternalxblossom



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, High School AU, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-12-07 12:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20976185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternalxblossom/pseuds/Eternalxblossom
Summary: Franky is a volunteer for an at-risk youth organization. She takes a chance on a broken Allie, seeking to start a new life away from drugs and gets her to enroll in high school again. Franky is walking Allie through every detail of the program when they run into Bea, her best friend, who is in a heated argument with Harry in the middle of the street. On impulse, Allie punches Harry in the nose. So much for that good first impression.“Say that to her again, you fucking asshole. I dare you.”Allie – loner, former addict, underachiever, used to deal with all the wrong crowds. Bea – queen bee, girlfriend of the abusive quarterback, overachiever, captain of the wrong crowd…what happens when two worlds collide?





	1. Chapter 1

The off-beat, chaotic symphony of electronic music blended with shallow breaths from teenagers grinding against each other was a muffled echo in her ears now, drifting away, fading into nothingness. All she had was the lingering bite of cheap liquor sliding down her throat and the aftertaste of his rough, eager lips clawing against hers, stealing yet another piece of her she’ll never get back, making her sick to her stomach…

But neither made her quite as nauseous as the sound of her own venomous words passing her lips, poisoning everything in their wake. They were ringing in her head obsessively now, louder and clearer than anything else, roaring, taunting, sinking through a barely healed heart on their path to breaking another one.

Neither destroyed her like the sight of Allie walking away.

Maybe for good this time around.

“Allie.” 

She chased her with everything she had left, feet clashing against freshly formed-puddles erratically, desperately. She didn’t even hear Harry calling out to her, spewing out his usual nonsense, didn’t even notice him making out with some freshman when she ignored him…because all she could see now was Allie’s back turned on her, shifting further and further away…

Her feet moved on their own accord faster until they finally caught up to her. The sound of rain pouring down was just as distant now, drowned by her thunderous heartbeats…

“Allie.” – she called out again, loud and steady, but only on surface, barely masking the strain underneath. “Slow down a little.”

The blonde made no effort to acknowledge her. Instead, she quickened her pace, urging her feet to carry her as far as possible from that goddamn party…and even farther away from _her_.

“Come on, Allie, you know you’re not a runner—“

Her pitiful attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears, too.

But she could see it now, clear as day - Allie’s upper body tensing up ever-so-slightly. She could see the line of her profile turning rougher, her jaw clenching, too.

She wasn’t ready for the sight that followed.

“Yeah...” – Allie swiftly turned around, blue eyes she thought she knew like no one else staring her down accusingly, overtaken by an unfamiliar, blasting fire.“’Cause you know everything about me, don’t you, Bea?”

It burned her to the ground.

But underneath it all, they still held _some_ degree of warmth, carefully locked away…warmth they never held for anyone else.

They were the picture of utter heartbreak now…

“Allie…”

“No, you know what?” – she crossed her arms aggressively, biting down hard on her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else. “It’s only me now. Say it again.”

“Allie…”

Her name on her lips fell like a choked plea now.

The rain was still dripping down every inch of her, from her cheeks down to her arms but she couldn’t hear it. She couldn’t feel it either.

All she felt was Allie. But_ she_ didn’t feel her anymore.

“Go on then, say it to my face.”

And when Allie moved closer, sneakers splashing water rhythmically, almost melodiously, raindrops barely masking the lingering tears in those azure orbs that always saw her the way no one else ever did, Bea could have sworn the last piece of her heart fell down to the floor.

Allie had all the right in the world to stomp all over it now. Just like she did.

“I…I didn’t mean that, you know it—“

“Lying, junkie street whore…”

Every last one of Allie’s bitter words fell like salt on an open wound, sinking through every tissue.

_Her_ words.

They didn’t belong on her lips.

“Nicely put, Bea, has a good ring to it, too—“

“Allie…”

“So tell me, Bea…”

The low rumble akin to a growl in Allie’s voice dropped like a thunderstorm…and so did her words.

“Did it make you feel powerful?”

No healing rain could coat them in anything, make them sound less hurtful.

_She_ couldn’t, either.

“Like him, when he does that to you… “

One step, one move and Allie forcefully removed her sleeve, revealing fresh bruises.

Bea looked down, throat drying out almost painfully, exposed like never before.

But not even that rough gesture hurt quite as much as the sound of her voice, so far away from real Allie’s tone. Whoever was speaking now wasn’t her, it _couldn’t_ be her.

“And then kisses you at school the next day?”

Bea backpedaled even more, stumbling backwards on her feet, raging guilt and overbearing _shame _taking space in her eyes.

“Did it make you feel good to step all over someone, too?”

Allie kept moving in on her, steady and determined…but her voice cracked.

It resonated in Bea…

“Did it make you feel better to make me feel worse?” – Allie’s accusations turned into stifled cries now – frail and exhausted, just like she was. ”Because I’m beneath you?”

“Y-you know I don’t think that—“

Bea had no right to pick up the pieces. Not when _she_ broke her in the first place.

“You know what, Bea, I don’t even care what you say to me anymore…” – the blonde spat in disdain, every syllable drenched in painful _finality_. “Or think about me.”

Bea knew she was lying…

But the fact that she wanted to believe it only rained down on her harder.

“There’s nothing you can do that I can’t take…”

She wasn’t lying now...

“I just thought you were different.”

“I-I am …”

“Are you?” – Allie scoffed, running an angry hand through her soaked hair. “Cause you seemed just like the rest of them in there…”

“I’m not like them…” – Bea choked out, so small and quiet…

So empty.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

And when Allie spat at her again, turning away, she snapped back, tenfold.

Because being defensive was all she knew..even around someone she never needed defense against.

“Well tough fucking luck then—“

“Fine by me…”

Allie raised her hands in the air in mock surrender, then quickened her pace again….and she was left to watch, helplessly. Each hurried step still matched every erratic heartbeat in Bea now, tightening that noose around her neck even more.

Watching Allie walk away was all she knew how to do. She never could stand the sight...not then and definitely not now.

Before she could stop herself, she bit down hard on her bottom lip, painfully urging herself not to speak of such vile words ever again…

Something else came out.

“What do you want me to say right now, Allie?” – she cried out, fractured and weak, as Allie turned to face her again, the sight bringing,_ forcing_ all of her broken pieces back together. “That I’m sorry, is that what you wanna hear?”

“N-no…”

And when Allie’s voice softened, a cherished, fugitive reminder of…._before, _disheveled strands of blonde hair sticking to her cheeks, roaring sea turning calmer and quieter…for_ her_, the thought came out of nowhere….or maybe a somewhere she loved to pretend didn’t exist.

She was beautiful.

Bea had to wonder why it took her so long to see it.

When all Allie did was see_ her_…from the very first day.

“Then what do you want from me?”

She had no clue she was still speaking…but the words only kept on coming.

They were _still _the wrong ones.

Allie said nothing for a few moments that felt like eternity, expression unreadable, mouth set into a firm line.

Bea’s gaze followed every flicker of hers, earth brown blending with crystal blue in a harmony only they knew, waiting on an answer, hypnotized.

“Love yourself…” – Allie whispered, eventually, drawing nearer, lacing her fingers with hers, gentler than any grip she’s ever known…”It’s all I ever wanted from you..”

It stopped her dead in her tracks.

Because their hands fit together like puzzle pieces..

She had to wonder why it took her so long to see _that_, too.

“You deserve better than that crowd..”

No one ever touched her like that, either – so careful and calculated…

So_ tender_. No one _but_ Allie.

“And you…you were right, you deserve better than me, too…”

Allie was wrong…it was the other way around.

“Allie….you_ know_ you’re my friend--”

_Please don’t go._

All she wanted was to stop her…but she knew she couldn’t.

And maybe Allie had slipped away long before tonight…

“Think about it…”

But if that was the case, why was she _still _putting her first now, of all times?

Why was Allie doing…._this?_

“W-what are you doing, you’re gonna catch a cold now—“

Wordlessly, Allie took her leather jacket off and draped it over her shoulders protectively, still offering her warmth and comfort, still sheltering her from every storm, past and present, when all Bea knew how to give was the complete opposite.

"It looks better on you anyway.”

If that was the case…why was Allie _still_ looking at her like that?

“Allie…”

“You should go back inside…they’re waiting on you..”– the blonde smiled, encouragingly, her hand lingering on her shoulder, a feather-light, gentle touch, as if she knew Bea needed that final push.. “They need their queen….right?”

Voice faltering, spirit breaking, steps barely synchronising... and Allie was walking away again.

Bea was letting her. Bea _always_ let her.

“For the record....you were always one to me. You never needed any fireworks.”

She was seeing Allie now the way she never had before.

It was too late.

“I loved you, Bea.. but I never asked you to love me.”

It felt like a goodbye.

All she had was the sound of all the words she couldn’t say to her ringing in her head now…and the aftertaste of all the wrong ones Allie never deserved still rising in her throat, choking all the right ones. 

She stood behind in the rain, not even caring if she caught pneumonia, not even hearing the music blasting from inside anymore..

She was watching her frame round the corner then fade away from her sight, Allie’s jacket still anchoring her like a security blanket, like nothing else ever has…

She couldn’t help but cling to it a little tighter, breathe it in, tears falling down her cheeks in endless streams, blending with every drop of rain.

If only she could grant that same courtesy to the girl who gave it to her.

Bea needed to retrace her steps...find out where it all went wrong.

Find out how she lost Allie.

Could she get her back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was talking to the lovely @Moonsfairy27 about how I always wanted to write a classic fight in the rain scene with Bea and Allie/a High School AU...so this happened. Let me know if it intrigues you in any way and I might turn it into something :)
> 
> P.S. I am starting you guys off in the middle of the story, trying something new as a writer..but the summary above still applies, that's how they actually meet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, did I take my sweet time with this...since your response was lovely, we're bringing it back from the dead. :)

_ (Wentworth High, Present Day)_

Franky chewed on her gum loudly, then cast one last frustrated look at her wristwatch, cursing the string of numbers daring to stare back at her. As she leaned against the wooden pole, fragrant disinterest displayed onto hazel orbs, she spit it out with no trace of grace whatsoever, then lit up a cigarette, instead.

Taking rhythmic puffs, she waited, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs before expelling it with practiced ease, then looked up and down, not even halfway entranced by the spectacle of concrete buildings and tall trees ahead of her. The repetitive action failed to draw out the frustrated, impatient sighs that came along with every movement. Another second that felt like eternity passed and she fumbled with her sleeve, then gazed towards the end of the sidewalk again and again...

And again...

No trace of blonde. At all.

Not even a flash...

She was already starting to regret her decision to take a chance on _another _stray cat...charity project #75.

Least that’s what she liked to call them...

Only difference? This one might be wrapped from head to toe in issues just like the others, but it might also come with a positive outcome, for once...

Because_ something _within the brunette, emerging from a secluded spot deep down her soul, call it instinct or maybe wishful thinking, something loud and eerily certain begged to differ, begged to argue that Novak had something else the other 74 didn’t...

_Hope. _

A very_ faint_ trace of it.

Or, at the very least, the will to get out of the gutter and the drive to stay there. The stubbornness to succeed where others failed. The resilience to put in the hours of work it took to choose differently every day...to choose to stay alive despite every taunting impulse to the contrary.

All she had to do was _fucking_ show up, first.

Franky loved being a volunteer. If you saw her walking down the street, you wouldn’t guess that in a million years. Brash attitude, tattoos that kept half of the traditional world away and the other at arm's length, marveling in curiosity mixed with fear, the ability to flirt with anything with a pulse and maybe a drive to succeed in life out of spite, too, if nothing else...

You wouldn't exactly picture her as the caring, involved type.

But then again, much like Novak, life hadn’t exactly given her a chance or a fair start, either...

Her home life hadn’t been stellar. It was nowhere near Allie’s level of tragedy but she had known what falling asleep under the stars for more than one night at a time felt like. She had known what going to sleep hungry felt like. She had known what being disowned for something you couldn’t control felt like. She understood that having hope and losing it was a lot more brutal than never having it at all.

Maybe that was why she took a chance on _this_ stray cat out of all the others. Maybe she saw herself in Novak.

Or maybe she was _slightly_ into her, too.

Can’t blame a girl for having a functional pair of eyes.

The blue-eyed teen happened to be a sight for the sore ones, even at her most haunted, troubled and disheveled hours...

But Franky also had a functional _watch_. And the blonde was running late. So much so that the brunette had to wonder if Allie changed her mind on starting all over, accepting the program, actually attending the sessions this time around, staying away from drugs for good, enrolling in high school again...

Maybe it was too much for her...

But as defiant as the former addict was, it seemed like their last conversation took a positive turn. Franky_ almost_ got through to her and it only took ten insults, five aggressive collar grabs and a dash of tough love....or maybe a mountain of it, dispelled in an order only she knew, one that seemed to reach its intended purpose, eventually. Allie might have grumbled a few times but inwardly she had to be impressed by the effort...no one tried so hard for her before.

Allie found herself at the lowest point on the moral scale of the world far too many times to count and no one tried to pull her up. Until now. She didn’t know why Franky would.

Why would _anyone?_

She didn’t know why this stupid organization would even try for her. What was she? A science project? A way for them to get social justice and tolerance points or bragging rights for turning even the most miserable, hopeless one's life around? Surely there were far better candidates than her, more worthy, too...

She didn’t know what drove her to show up, either...

But she eventually did.

„You’re late, Novak.” – Franky reproached with a raised eyebrow, then tossed what was left of her cigarette on the floor, carelessly. „You have a nice ass, _blondie_, but make me wait for it again and our little arrangement is off.”

Allie rolled her eyes, face morphing into a slightly apologetic grimace whilst maintaining some level of annoyance too, underneath.

„Sorry, Franky...” – she replied, scratching her neck. „I got held up.”

„Oh really? What _other_ important arrangements could you possibly have, a press conference, _Oprah?”_

Unknowingly, Allie chewed on her bottom lip, nervous energy vivid in every gesture...

„I didn’t get drugs, not that I even have a supplier anymore, you can chill, I was just...”

_Overthinking the shit out of this._

„What?”

Now she was shuffling her feet against the ground with the mannerisms of a scolded child, a move she may or may not have learned to perfection..

„I’m really behind on everything. You don’t exactly learn English Lit while you shoot up on a back alley...you sure I got this?”

Hazel eyes softening, Franky moved closer, then occupied Allie’s entire space, her taller frame slightly eclipsing her own...and it was the first time the blonde didn’t flinch or pull away like a scaredy cat out of instinct. She saw no ill intent behind it – the brunette seemed genuinely willing to help her...and she was taking a _huge_ risk on her.

No one ever did...

Allie was starting to suspect this was as close to a _real_ friend as she ever got....in 16 years of life.

Because the brunette was doing this without expecting a single goddamn thing, without demanding sex or drugs or any other twisted favors from her.

„Novak, most high schoolers are raging idiots. You got street smarts, think you can’t catch up on some Hemingway? _Please_.” – the tattooed-teen snorted, clearly amused. „High school’s gonna be like taking candy from a baby. Your paperwork’s done, all formalities are in order, just keep your head down, stay out of trouble..."

„B-but how did you—”

„Let’s just say I gave you a stunning character reference and, as student body president, that’s gotta count for something.”

„Y-you did?”

„Yes, _moron_.” – Franky clarified, features twisting into pure annoyance. „Don’t make me fucking regret it or I’ll rain down hard on your ass and not in the nice way.”

Now Allie was laughing, too...

When the sound reached her own ears, it hit her out of nowhere - she couldn't remember the last time she did.

„Why are you doing this?”

„Isn’t it obvious? I wanna get in your pants.”

Maybe it was..._partly_ true.

„Sorry, Doyle...” – Allie’s genuine laughter eventually faded into a small, grateful smile. „But you’re not my type.”

„I’m everyone’s type, _sugar_—”

„You didn't answer my question.” – the blonde breezed past her lame attempt at flirting then pressed on, apparently having no intention to let this go. Sensing no cooperation, she grabbed onto Franky’s flannel to stop her from lighting up another cigarette.

Not until she answered.

With a frustrated sigh, the brunette yanked her hand away.

„Just do your part, Novak. You ask too many fucking questions.”

Allie stepped back, half-smile still tugging at her lips.

It wasn’t the end of this conversation.

But she’d have to play ball....for now.

As Franky resumed her previous task, this time unopposed, she offered her a smoke, too. Allie gracefully declined – she had enough bad habits to last her a lifetime, she wasn’t about to start another one. Instead, she followed her cue to trail along as they crossed the sidewalk, with the brunette leading the way and dutifully catching her up to speed with the specifics of Wentworth High – cliques, unspoken rules, the „do’s” and „don’t’s”, how to survive her first day as the new kid...and so on and so forth.

All the while, Franky was also walking her through all the details of the program and Allie was doing her best to listen to everything carefully, without missing a beat. But try as she might, she still missed a few points...thankfully, not the most important ones.

She would _have _to stay sober. Non-negotiable.

If she touched another drug, this time she wouldn’t get another do-over – she would get kicked out for good, no appeal to be made, no begging, no second chance.

This was shelter number 3. Maybe it was finally the lucky one.

Allie would also have to attend mandatory psychological counseling weekly, have flawless attendance at school and generally maintain a good character or, as Franky so gracefully put it – stay out of trouble. If she followed all steps to a T, she might get emancipated, too, get her own place, eventually move out...

She wasn’t about to complain now, either. Communal living was better than no living at all...

Which was what she planned on doing the last time she OD'd and woke up in a pile of her own vomit in a back alley with no clue how she got there...who would have thought the universe had bigger plans for her all along?

If only Allie knew...

The universe was only just beginning.

Today was going to bring a major cosmic shift for her....and not in a way she’d ever imagine or even be able to predict.

As for the emancipation part....her parents were nowhere to be found, they kicked her out two years ago and haven’t made a single attempt at contact. Hell, they probably thought she was dead in a ditch somewhere....least that meant she doubted anyone would put up a fight.

The only one who could put an actual dent in her plans to be anything but a sewer rat in this lifetime was...

_Herself._

Self-sabotaging was a tendency that had long since followed her, haunted her even, kept her under in spite of any efforts to claw her way out of her own destructive habits. This was her_ one_ chance to get her head straight.

Could she do it?

„Yo, dreamy.” – Franky nudged her shoulder roughly, pulling her back from a trance she had no idea she succumbed to. „Where the fuck did you go? Listen, you can’t show up to school dressed like that, a’right, we're gonna get you some new threads, can’t be seen around you, got a reputation to maintain, y'know--”

Franky had a point – hobo chic wasn’t exactly „in” this season.

That...and the blonde was starting to suspect hierarchy was an important part of Wentworth High...perhaps even more so than a regular high school. The unspoken rules and principles governing each specific clique, from the nerds to the jocks to the cheerleaders almost sounded like those of religious cults...she was hardly eager to get involved in any.

She's been the odd one out her entire life....something told her she'd fit the part perfectly here, too.

„You do know I’m broke, right?” – Allie stopped dead in her tracks, pointing to her empty pockets.

„It’s on me, _Cinderella._” – Franky countered, matter-of-factly, leaving her present company to open her mouth in obvious protest. „Don’t even try to argue, you’ll make it up to me later...” – she winked, indecently, and the blonde put two fingers together, then gestured to her throat, pretending to puke.

„Still not my type, Doyle..”

„Yeah, whatever.” – the brunette waved her hand around, not buying a single word. „That’s what they all say...”

The words barely evaded the boastful tattooed teen’s throat when both of their steps came to a screeching halt on the sidewalk, as they reached a physical and metaphorical crossroads. Because they were both alerted by the same noise – a heated conversation lighting up the far end of the street...and not in a good way but in an eerily ominous one. A brief flash of acknowledgement settled across Franky’s hazel orbs, instantly recognizing the pair involved in the increasingly louder conflict, one that was starting to draw too many curious bystanders shooting perplexed, even judgmental stares from the sidelines..

Allie was too busy to notice any of it..

She was too focused on what was going on before her eyes.

Frozen in place, her ears perked up in curiosity, at first...until a pang of sheer _rage_ like no other followed, bubbling in her chest. Without a single warning, her hands balled up into fists by her sides and her azure gaze turned steely...

Because maybe the voice that uttered them was fragile and weak...

But Allie heard it down to the last syllable..

„Y-you’re hurting me.”

It was all it took for the blonde to march ahead like a lightning bolt, dead-set onto her destination before Franky could make a single move or effort to stop her...by the time she caught up to her, the damage was already done...

„You know what? I think you need to learn your place....”

All Allie saw was a tall, broad male figure towering over a redheaded girl who couldn’t have been older than she was, before grabbing onto her wrist, roughly...

„You stupid _bitch_—”

It wasn’t long before his other hand came up, ready to strike her with the force of a _sickening _habit...

It couldn’t have been the first time...

Allie saw _red._

“Say that to her again, you fucking asshole. I dare you.”

And he fell down to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is Dante's Inferno but at least this is getting somewhat of a contour in my head. :)

It started with a dull ache spreading across the surface of her fist, sliding upwards until it grew into a pulsating, throbbing sensation numbing her entire arm. In a flash, a sound akin to a twig snapping filled her ears, making her flinch and step back, clumsily, body and mind shaken by their own reckless actions...

Something cracked in a million pieces.

It can’t have been just someone’s pride.

Indistinct chatter followed, making her ears buzz even more. Loud whistles from the way too involved bystanders rung in the air, as they gathered around, gawking in shock, cheering, watching. In a moment's notice, most scurried away, driven back by Franky's stern look but some stayed for the promise of an entertaining,_ free_ show that was yet to be delivered.

Allie didn't see any of it.

Vision blurry with adrenaline, pulse racing erratically, she blinked once or twice in an effort to re-focus, to no avail. Amongst the commotion, her eyes failed to register an all-knowing Franky smirking in approval in her peripheral vision...

But the brunette _was_ smirking alright, victoriously even. 

3, 2, 1...

Another crack.

This time, it _was _someone’s ego.

„What the fuck?” – a violent cough erupted from Harry’s throat as he spat on the sidewalk, hand coming up to cover his broken nose. His entire frame shook in a fit of rage and he seemed on the edge of striking again. Someone, something, _anything._

Until he looked down.

Like Allie, _he_ was seeing red now, too.

His own blood - metallic, vile and toxic, rising in his mouth then splashing onto the floor.

Bea watched, equally horrified by the sight, driven into complete silence, no longer the sole recipient of his rage, instead reduced to a mere bystander too now. Innocent. Uninvolved. _Speechless._ Harry’s previous fire and fury only grew as it passed onto the unsuspecting blonde stranger who may or may not have just defended her pride...or maybe doomed her entirely.

The redhead had no time to stop, ponder or even manage a single look back at the mysterious, yet oddly intrigued pair of crystal blue eyes searching her profile. But she could feel it boring into her, burning or maybe _healing._ She had no time to assess the damage to her own heart, swiftly awakened, throbbing like a drum in her chest now for a reason far more complex than just fear or apprehension.

There would be retaliation for this.

Allie had no way of knowing...

Same Allie now stepping back, yanking her fist away, finding it equally bloodied, minuscule scars adorning the surface, scars that would soon blend with the ones she already wore. She didn’t even hear Harry’s profanities and spat out insults, only heard the sound of her own heart blasting with adrenaline and something _else_, sparked by a similar fire, by the same mess of crimson curls and chocolate brown eyes evading her own.

In between _„who the fuck are you’s”_ and „_you’re gonna regret this” _from Harry, Franky promptly stepped in...

Doyle, the voice of reason. Who would have thought?

„Walk away,_ all star._” – the brunette threatened, a determined hand pushing against his chest roughly, forcing him to step back. „Before you do anything you’ll regret. Or my young protégée over here’s gonna have to teach you one or two things about manners again.”

Allie smirked, crossing her arms victoriously, too.

Like the smug lil brat she was.

With a disgusted look, Harry spat onto the floor again, then blew his nose, leaving bloody traces all over the pavement. Bea’s eyes fell shut almost painfully as she gulped, not bearing the nauseating sight. She stood frozen in place, unaware of all the ways a certain blonde someone was _still _gazing her way, as if there was something she needed to decipher, something important...

And maybe Allie had just met this girl but she could recognize the signs better than anyone else...

It filled her with raging remorse on the spot. Mere seconds was all it took and her previous smugness dimmed bit by bit until it molded into a worried grimace...

„She with you?” – Harry interjected again, eye-ing Allie from head to toe menacingly, before puffing his chest in a pitiful attempt to establish dominance. She wasn't in the least impressed.

„Yeah, got a problem with that?” – the hazel-eyed teen retorted, sliding a territorial arm over Allie’s shoulder. „Wanna try messing with _my girl_ again?”

Harry scoffed, uttering a disgusted _„Fucking lezzos.”_ under his breath.

Before any of them could do anything to react, the quarterback swiftly faced Bea, narrow, angry features contorting into a sickly sweet grimace.

„We’ll settle this later, babe. Catch you at lunch.”

Like nothing had even happened...

Like Bea’s wrist didn’t _still_ carry visible traces of damage, like her skin wasn’t still burned by his rough grip, aching as if someone poured acid on it...

Like she _still _didn’t feel the weight of a collision yet to follow.

Another one did, instead, a very different one...

As Harry grumbled and walked away in a storm of insults, slurs and jabs, clearly directed at the peculiar girl with sun-kissed locks and brilliant azure orbs, the sounds fell on deaf ears. Because all of her attention was back on Bea, jolting her back from under a trance she had no idea she was even into. She saw plump lips opening and closing repeatedly, meaning to say something, anything...

Allie was at a loss for words.

For a moment, Bea choked, too. She didn’t know what to say, either.

_Thank you? What on Earth were you thinking? Who the hell are you?_

Spellbound, a still on edge Allie licked her lips, pondering upon a million things to voice out loud but not managing a single one. For seconds on end, nothing came out. Before the odd staring contest between them could go on any longer, Franky pulled them both out of their misery in a way only she could....

„Sup, Red?” – she snorted, engulfing the redhead in a warm hug, the affectionate gesture catching her slightly off-guard. „Missed your best friend?”

Bea rolled her eyes with a small delay, until she gradually settled.

„Hardly...”

"Yeah, you did. You know you love me, girl."

"Uh, no I don't--"

Allie looked away, shyly, feeling like an intruder into a private moment she shouldn't be witnessing...at the same time, she’d be lying if she said the sound of that unexpected raspy voice didn’t do..._something _to her. 

„Oh shut your mouth, come over here and show me some love.”

„God, you’re needy.”

Bea laughed, reluctantly reciprocating the hug and, this time, Allie’s downcast eyes swiftly inched upwards. As she watched the previously troubled girl’s tense visage change into a relaxed pose, she could have sworn her heart just jumped out of her chest..

„I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced to...” 

With that, Franky released Bea’s frame just as Allie cleared her throat to get _whatever_ lump just settled there out, no notice, no warning given. No luck - the action did little to settle her constricted throat. All-knowingly, the brunette stepped back, movie-style...

„Your girl?” – Bea interrupted with a raised eyebrow, one arm coming up to rest over the other, casually to anyone else _but_ Allie.

The gesture was meant to be taken as defensive, intimidating even. It wasn’t long before she was giving Allie her full, undivided attention, noting her disheveled state, from the worn-out, ripped clothes to her unkempt hair. Underneath it all, however, she saw a kind, warm smile and a set of eyes that seemed to paint stories with every flicker.

It unraveled her inside.

Bea coughed awkwardly, too, faltering slightly, switching her weight from one foot to the other.

While Allie was too busy rapidly switching from Angry Karate Kid to a shy puppy under the weight of the redhead’s scrutinizing gaze, Franky was biting her lips not to laugh out loud..

„I’m not...” – the blonde uttered quietly, scratching the back of her neck. „I’m not anyone’s girl.”

And when the gaze she was stealing fugitive peeks into earlier sought hers like a magnet again, Bea’s heart rose in her chest, too...

Maybe it was apprehension. She didn’t exactly like meeting strangers on a regular day...even more so, strangers who quite literally punched their way into her life.

„Doyle’s just full of shit--”

This one, on the other hand? This one had a point.

„You don’t say.” – Bea bit back, sarcastically, voicing her approval.

Two sets of eye-rolls followed in perfect synchronicity.

Breaths mingled together, followed by quiet, almost repressed laughter tugging at twin lips. For a moment there, it seemed like a private_ something_ was being created and shared, passing between them like a clap of thunder....

As luck would have it, a certain tattooed teen wasn’t going to be left out of the action.

_Over her dead body._

Her smartass remarks were only currently being silenced by her desire to watch the events unfold and the intrigue she felt as she watched the odd stares passing between her unsuspecting friends...

Then again, Doyle had a sixth sense on a regular day. Right now, however? It was pinging everywhere.

A major cosmic shift _was_ happening, alright.

„Ha-ha.” – Franky cut in a million light years later, feigning offense, before reaching for another cigarette. This time, she did her duty, pointing her lighter as means of introduction. „Red, this is Allie. She would like to publicly apologize for punching your boyfriend...”

„Actually, no, she wouldn’t.” – Allie corrected, proceeding to ruin everything without even knowing it. „No offense....” – she paused, waving her hand around airily. „Red...”

„It’s Bea, actually...”

„Bea...” – the blonde exhaled, softly. The name seemed to roll of her tongue perfectly,_ too _perfectly. „But your boyfriend was being a dick.”

„And that gave you the right to break his nose?” – Bea countered, sweetly...on surface. "Wow."

Allie saw right through her.

She was _pissed._

Because maybe a part of her appreciated the intervention, but another, much louder one dreaded the retaliation that was to follow. Bea knew Harry wouldn’t let this one go...and if past occurrences were any indication to go by, he wouldn’t only seek the blonde herself out for revenge...

Let’s just say his favorite punching bag was someone else...someone weaker and frailer, with a lot less desire to push back. She knew Harry had a temper, the last thing she wanted was provoke him, urge him to inflict even more damage at a later date...

Which was precisely what Allie did.

„Uh, you’re welcome.”

Same Allie now scoffing back and crossing her arms, clearly not one to get intimidated easily.

She's seen the worst the streets had to offer. She almost died from a drug overdose. The redhead's pointed glare wasn't even making a dent in her façade. 

But the air around them _was_ switching dramatically with every passing moment, engulfing them both in a different tension this time around, inching somewhere between passive aggressive and outright aggressive. And, as always, Franky was the first to notice...

For once, she settled for _not_ intervening.

She could, however, use some popcorn right about now.

„Excuse me?” – Bea sneered through gritted teeth. „I didn’t ask you to do that. So if you expect a medal, _blondie_—”

„I was only trying to help you, a’right? So, as I was saying...” – Allie moved into Bea’s space uninvited, piercing blue eyes settled into a steely glare, etched in _something else_ around the edges...something softer she didn’t even know she was wearing. „You’re welcome—”

„Hey, _Franky’s girl_... ”

„It’s Allie—”

„Allie...” – Bea inched closer, too, completely unfazed, until she was one breath away from the blonde, foreheads and noses inches away from touching. "Do me a favor..." Allie gulped then, holding her breath, following the redhead’s every move, noting the way her voice just dropped dangerously low. A pair of hands latched onto her collar, pulling her in, then pushing her back roughly.

„Mind your goddamn business next time.”

And when she let go, a perplexed Allie blinked once or twice in confusion past her retreating frame. Unfortunately for the teen, her delayed reaction forced all the snarky comebacks on the tip of her tongue to stay lodged in her throat...

When she eventually regained her senses, it was too late to shoot any insult back.

Bea was long gone.

Still watching the exchange like the (very) amused and (completely) uninvolved third party she was, Franky chuckled under her breath, then latched onto Allie’s shoulder again, bumping her side...

„Face it...that turned you on a little.”

Allie rolled her eyes...

„No fucking way...”

Or did it....?

„So that’s your type, huh? Ice queens?”

„Shut up...”

Allie had a feeling this was going to be an interesting first day...

She wasn’t wrong. It already started with a bang.

And as she rounded the corner, there it stood, in bold, rigid,_ ugly_ letters spelling a promise of academic success and an ominous invite into trouble...

_„Wentworth High, home of the Teal Titans.”_

She would blend right in, alright.

Like a brick in the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the result of my sleep-deprived, quarantine brain...it'll probably have better editing in the morning...
> 
> P.S. To those of you asking for more updates on this or wanting a "Speak Now" sequel - sorry I've been slow and extra slow in both departments. Still trying to manage the craziness - stay safe, wherever you are. In the meantime, enjoy (or hate) this thingy. :)

True to her word and, in true determined Doyle-on-a-mission fashion, she wasn’t about to ignore the very important task that she established herself for the day – making sure Allie looked presentable for the sea of merciless, blood-hungry sharks she was about to be swimming in very shortly.

Without wasting a single moment, she dragged her “skinny ass to the gym”, made her take a shower and helped her fix that angry, disheveled mop on her head that Franky poetically called _“a bird’s nest where you could fit a small village of little birdies or a fucking bird conference.” _before forcefully changing said skinny ass into more appropriate garments.

All the while, she gracefully ignored the more or less loud protests that came along with it.

Let’s just say that, aside from being blessed with a talent for handling professional crybabies such as Novak over here, who couldn’t stop grumbling and complaining, Franky was also bestowed by the lesbian Gods with a _flawless_ fashion sense.

The outfit of her choosing was simple, but tasteful enough to be appropriate "first day" clothes at Wentworth High – a leather jacket, cargo pants and a way too tight teal tank top underneath that showed off Allie's curves perfectly (maybe that last part of the outfit was _glaringly _intentional of the brunette).

Much like a child whose energy eventually plummets after they run out of tears to cry, Allie's energy to argue eventually died off, too, as she exhaled, heavily, dreading to walk through those doors…

She eventually complied, with a heavy heart and even heavier dose of apprehension.

With every shaky step she took, she could feel her anxiety build up into a snowball rapidly, ready to skyrocket at any point. The seemingly endless hallways ahead stretched like a badly directed movie before her eyes, governed by and drenched in classism, privilege and a stunningly harsh look into society as a whole.

Maybe on a smaller level, sure, but stripped down to its core...?

That’s what it felt like.

She understood what the brunette meant before and why she almost pleaded with her to take the_ "unspoken order"_ seriously – high school felt like a place were all inequalities of the real world were only exacerbated, where classism ruled above all, much like the middle ages. One glance was all it took for her to identify _the ruling class_ – they didn’t even need to wear glaringly obvious status markers such as gold or titles, least not outwardly, for them to send the right message ahead for _the masses_.

It was the group of platinum blondes from cheer practice, led by the last person she'd expect in a million years – the redhead whose pride she just defended.

Maybe she shouldn't have. Much like the rest of them, Allie was starting to regret _that_ marvelous decision, too.

An unintended, but audible scoff escaped Allie’s lips on sight. Sensing she was being watched, an equally surprised Bea's gaze shot up on instinct. As soon as it did, unknowingly, she scanned the blonde from head to toe for a single moment, noting the change in attire, before averting her gaze altogether just as she walked past.

The blonde's assumption was correct - _she_ was the higher up on the classism scale. Perhaps _the highest_ of them all. It should have made Allie's blood simmer with rage, should've made her despise Bea and everything she stood for _outright_, like Allie despised every single form of authority she ever encountered in her life, from police officers to social workers.

Oddly enough, she _didn’t._

She didn’t feel an ounce of disgust for _her._

And she didn’t know exactly why.

Maybe it was Allie’s intrinsical desire to believe Bea was different from the other blood-hungry sharks for a reason she couldn’t quite explain yet, either.

Because, underneath a part Bea seemed to play to perfection like a flawless actor on stage, Allie thought she saw something else just now – a hint of _uncertainty,_ a hint of cold skepticism and realism, as if Bea was keenly aware of that same classism she just observed and almost regretful to be a part of it.

But it might as well have been nothing but wishful thinking on Allie's part.

Another look past her retreating frame that Bea didn’t catch and Allie shook her head, banishing her earlier thoughts, before taking her books from her locker and slamming it shut, a tad louder than she intended. On her way to her first class – English Lit (her initial worries turned into a well-placed hunch, alright) she saw more cliques pass her by, one by one, clear as day, this time on the lower end of the social spectrum – the band kids, the theatre nerds, the computer geeks.

She was right – she didn’t fit any of that, not by a long shot.

Her only _“hobbies”_ in between shooting up heroine and trying to figure out how not to starve to death have been writing and music. And the first one was odd to say the least, because Allie _hated _reading. She never had the patience for it and considered most popularly acclaimed authors to be pompous assholes at best and mediocre at worst.

Everyone assumed a good writer was supposed to be a book geek, first. Oddly enough, she didn’t fit _that_ stereotype, either.

She didn't read. She just _wrote_. Anything and everything.

Thankfully, she still fit plenty of stereotypes. Drug addict? Check. Lesbian who got kicked out by her family? Check. Former prostitute? Check.

She wasn’t wrong – she would fit like a brick in the wall here. 

Hence why, true to her outcast “brand” she had no idea she was wearing like a red target on her back, she walked in, then sat down somewhere in the far back, huffing out in frustration. One sigh after another and her long frizzy blonde hair that kept getting in her eyes was starting to annoy her an unbearable amount, even if it looked somewhat clean and styled now, courtesy of Franky’s magic.

Then again, the luxury of a haircut is the last thing on your mind when you don’t have a roof over your head. The more her hair kept getting in her eyes, however, the more she realized how much she needed one.

Her brief, Beyonce-type worries soon faded away once more students kept piling in, including Bea and Harry, joined at the hip now, like the undoubted king and queen of Wentworth High.

The sickly sweet picture made Allie want to gag - it probably showed on her face, features gradually twisting into a scowl. She would have puked on the desk before her in one swift motion right there if it wasn’t currently being occupied by a geeky, glasses and braces wearing kid who seemed too tall for it to be natural at 16.

The blonde suspected the good Lord skipped _her_ when growth spurts were being passed around. 

Least his giraffe frame gave Allie the hiding spot she needed and didn't even know how much.

Not the view anyone would want to see, especially after witnessing the truth, especially after seeing that same smirking Harry for what he _really_ was. The urge to punch that taunting smirk off his face again was growing stronger by the minute.

Her plans for revenge, however, were soon cut short before she could act on them, when the teacher walked in.

A hipster-ish looking middle-aged man wearing a scarf around his neck and a blazer that seemed a tad expensive for a teacher’s salary, alongside the even more stereotypical thick-framed glasses.

Allie felt like she was stuck in a badly directed movie, alright. If only she could find the pause button.

“Welcome, class, for those of you who don’t know me, I am Mr. Thompson.” – the teacher announced, a child-like enthusiasm slipping into his voice, as he placed a stack of papers on his desk. Predictably, he also grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote his name down on the blackboard – as if neither of his current company had functional ears.

In his defense, the rumble of the class was still loud as always, as if no one even bothered to acknowledge his presence...

Neither did Allie, for that matter…

Until he did this..

“For those of you who _do_ know me, you also know you’ll have to stand me for a second semester. Pay attention and submit your assignments on time and we won’t have an issue. But first thing’s first – my haircut is not the only fresh thing today, we also have a newcomer. Let’s give a warm welcome to…”

Allie’s gaze promptly shot up from the notes she pretended to scribble down in flagrant disinterest…

“Ms. Novak. Come on up.”

Hearing her name called out, Allie let out a prolonged sigh, unconsciously clasping onto her pen a little tighter. What followed were at least a dozen overtly curious and maybe judgmental eyes turning her way at once and the distinct sound of Harry fake-coughing _“drug addict”_ under his breath, loud enough to still be heard by everyone in the room, including the teacher. Some of his jock mates laughed, while others watched her in a mix of curiosity and perplexity, maybe even disgust.

Allie would have loved a hole to crawl into on a regular day, but on this one? She’d settle for a ditch in the ground, if nothing else.

She begrudgingly ignored everything that just transpired, including the teacher telling everyone to keep it down and fake-confidently strutted to the front of the class. When she got there, she crossed her arms and stared ahead at a neutral point in the distance, somewhere above Glasses’ Guy’s head, unaware of a certain redheaded girl who was watching her...._differently?_

Her glance held something _else_, a range of unfamiliar, foreign emotions Allie couldn’t quite identify – was it sympathy? Intrigue? Bea's eyebrows moved up and down thoughtfully, before her stare drifted lower, eventually settling on a random point on the floor, too…

“So tell us something about yourself, Ms. Novak. How do you like it here so far?”

Allie cleared her throat awkwardly in response, then couldn't fight a scoff that was just _dying_ to be released...

“Just peachy, Mr. Thompson. What a lovely class this is. What do I have to do to pass again?”

This time, her words were followed by quiet, indistinct chuckles – because the blonde had a point, it was the million dollar question on everyone’s mind. The fact that Bea almost mustered a smile alongside them wasn’t lost on an all-knowing, increasingly irritated Harry whose blood had barely dried but was already considering making a scene…

“Maybe not be a drug addict?”

Or…acting it out.

That was all it took for the last remaining chuckle to quiet down, only to make space for the ominous, gruesome silence that followed, sweeping over the room or maybe engulfing it entirely…

The teacher was just about to kick Harry out and make sure he had a spoken and written warning to start the second semester off right, but Allie had the urge to speak and her lips parted before she even realized it…

Because maybe she was a nobody. And maybe she had no pride to defend, unlike Bea and everyone else.

But she sure as hell had a _character_.

“No, it’s alright, Mr. Thompson.” – she interrupted the monumental quiet with a low, but tauntingly calm voice. Unbeknownst to her, Bea’s eyes softened instantly at the sight, at Allie's voice betraying a subtle, barely noticeable hint of _fragility._ "Let him speak."

Well-masked fragility to the entire world...but glaring enough for someone who wore the same brand of it, day in and day out.

The more Bea watched in soundless intrigue, the more apparent it became. Despite her personal feelings for the blonde, she strongly believed no one deserved to be put on the spot like that. She also suspected it wasn’t the first time Allie heard such vile, sentence-like words, judging by her jaw clenching ever so-slightly and her posture stiffening - yet again, subtle, barely there changes that everyone else around was too busy to notice.

But Bea saw every last one of them like they were begging to be _seen_.

And she had no idea why she was even paying so much attention.

“Anyone else got more of those to throw?” – Allie asked around…and if the room was quiet before, now you could hear a needle dropping to the floor. “Drug addict? Prostitute? Go ahead – spit out all the rumors. Boy do they circulate fast around here.”

“That’s enough, Ms. Novak—“

The teacher’s stern, but empathetic intervention did not do as much as a dent in Allie’s speech.

If anything, it seemed to animate it.

“You wanted to know something about me, Mr. Thompson?” – her head spun as she turned, another, louder scoff erupting from her throat, before her voice trembled with an odd mix of hurt and bitterness. “Ask them. They know _better_. They know _everything_.”

With that, Allie sat back down and resumed her previous action, ignoring all the mixed looks on her back, ranging from horrified to impressed– some quietly established in their mind that the new kid had guts, while others were still shocked at everything that just transpired.

The rest of the class went on quite smoothly after that, like none of it had even happened. The teacher casually resumed his tasks for the day - presenting the curriculum, what everyone needed to do to pass, what book reports needed to be submitted and when and other boring academia crap Allie couldn’t be bothered to listen, not even halfway…

She may or may not have spent the rest of her time scribbling down meaningless words and listening to music with a hidden earphone underneath her jacket. Her other ear was free, though, much to her chagrin…

She was _this_ close to keeping it together.

And, to her credit, she tried. She really, _really_ tried.

Until some broad-shouldered, whats-his-face jock whose features she couldn’t be bothered to remember from Harry’s football crew passed her a note from desk to desk that said…

_“How much do you charge for a quickie? Meet me after class.”_

She shot one look at it, crumpled it in disgust then threw it back in his face when the teacher wasn’t looking. With a legendary patience she had no idea she could muster, she waited until class was over, Franky’s speech about staying out of trouble lost somewhere inside her disarrayed head, a muffled echo drowned by sheer rage and disgust…

As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Allie chased him out the hallway when he unintentionally fell behind his mates, before grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming his frame against a locker with staggering force…

For someone of her stature and built, that is.

So much for _not_ causing a scene.

So much for _not_ making a splash on her first day.

This was nowhere near a splash – this was fucking Niagara Falls.

“So you usually pay girls to fuck you, huh, dickhead?” – Allie growled, towering over the guy she just shoved into a locker with reckless anger, not in the least intimidated by the height difference or the dozen people that just gathered around to watch the scene unfold…”Pathetic.”

Including a speechless Bea and an even more shocked (and silently impressed) Franky who was starting to wonder if she should sign up Karate Kid over there for anger management classes.

“Let me tell you something…” – the blonde inched closer to his ear, her spat out threats coming out with incresingly stronger, venomous fire. So much so that he took a reluctant step back, nearly tripping over his sneakers in the process, back pushed into the locker until no contour of either were distinguishable anymore. “You couldn’t afford me in your dreams. Now get lost before I do something I’ll regret.”

Once released from that death-grip, the jock coughed, then uttered some indistinct insults under his breath, before dusting his letterman jacket and shaking his head in disbelief. In a flash, he was already joining his other brain-dead friends, including a smirking Harry..

It was at that moment Allie’s chaotic rage fizzled out enough to see Bea’s frame lost somewhere alongside all of them, near some blonde bimbos and even more brain-dead human embodiments of classism.

She couldn’t decipher the look she was on the receiving end of yet again – it was inching somewhere between _pity_ and _compassion_.

Allie wouldn’t have any of it.

Allie didn’t _need_ any of it.

Not from _her_. Not from anyone.

Another scoff slipped past her mouth unnanounced. On the verge of walking away, Allie ran a frustrated hand through her hair, when a Franky she didn’t even notice in her peripheral vision clashed into her like an arrow, grabbed her by the collar forcefully and shoved her into an empty classroom.

The sound of the door closing behind them with a loud thud made her flinch.

It was enough to bring Allie back to Earth. 

“You know…” – the blonde grumbled, casually readjusting her collar with one arm. “Do that again and you’ll ruin it.” – she added, before pointing to the jacket she just touched.. “It’s not mine so I don’t care but—“

“Maybe you _should_ fucking care.” – Franky snapped, completely unfazed, frame inching closer until it towered over Allie menacingly, hands coming up to shake her collar even more aggressively now. “What the fuck was that?”

“I was just—“

“What did I fucking tell you about keeping your head down?” – the brunette hissed through gritted teeth. “And no, I don’t care what he said to you and neither should you – you don’t engage with any of them again, are we clear?”

“Listen, Franky, I appreciate everything you’re doing but you can’t expect me to just sit around while some low-life punk calls me a—“

“That’s exactly what I’m asking. Listen to me…” – Franky retreated just enough to allow her voice to drop lower. With an exasperated sigh, she begrudgingly released Allie’s frame. “I’m asking you as a friend, for your own goddamn sake, you need to—“

“Oh wow, I didn’t know we were friends, Doyle, I’m flattered--“

Same Allie who was still _not_ taking this seriously.

Exhaling heavily, Franky decided to switch tactics by doing the last thing she wanted –_ sharing_.

Desperate times called for desperate measures…

“Okay, smartass, you want to do this the hard way? Fine.” – the brunette almost reached for another cigarette, on instinct, before cursing audibly once she realized she was indoors and _that _was prohibited. Shitty archaic rules. “I was the new kid, too, okay, I get it, I’m not an idiot. But you have a lot _more_ to lose than you know and I’m not gonna sit around and watch you lose it. And I’m not talking about your social status that you clearly don’t give a rat’s ass about—“

“Bingo..”

“But you do care about having a place to live, don’t you?”

Every last snarky comeback died on Allie’s lips right there…

She cast a regretful look down to the floor, seemingly reconsidering…

“You do care about proving it to yourself that you’re _more_ than everyone thinks, don’t you?”

She did…

She just wasn’t sure _she_ believed she was worth a dime, either.

“I’m not asking you to do this for any of them, Novak but have some fucking pride--”

“I _do_ have pride—“

“Then use it better next time. I won’t ask you again – keep your head down.”

With that last low rumble akin to a foreboding warning and a frustrated lip bite, the brunette walked away, not even expecting another reply or bothering to look back.

Allie shook her head, just in time for the bell to ring.

Like a lamb sent to a slaughterhouse, every step she took in the direction of her next class felt heavy and ominous. If her first day started out like this, she didn’t want to think of the rest of the year…

To be fair, there were_ a lot_ of things she didn't want to think about right now...starting with a certain striking shade of fiery red and ending with two pools of stirringly honest, earth brown that have crept up into every inch of her mind without even asking for permission first…

Sighing in absolute defeat, Allie shook her head, again.

She didn’t need any of this.

But she’d have to swallow her pride…for now.

Or use it better, as Franky said.

Maybe she had a point.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think I know where I’m taking this now – so grab a seat and get ready for a tale of music and art as saviors of everything, coming-of-age and overcoming pressure to conform, all within the walls of one blessed (or cursed?) Wentworth High.
> 
> P.S. Enemies to friends to lovers dynamics is something I always wanted to write. Fingers crossed I don't ruin it.

It’s been precisely 3 weeks, 5 days and 24 hours since Allie Novak punched someone, pushed someone or shoved them into a locker, a door or any other wooden or metallic surface with the clear intention of causing bodily harm.

It’s also been precisely 3 weeks, 5 days and 24 hours of _not _receiving a medal for it.

In all fairness, the blonde probably deserved one – delivered on a silver platter even.

Much to her credit, she managed to evade the daily provocations quite marvelously, with a self-control she had no idea she possessed. And maybe it was precisely that which eventually changed her reality.

Because, after the first few weeks of _“newbie baptism”_ aka being called various slurs behind her back or to her face, ranging from _“drug addict” _to _“whore”,_ she was steadily becoming old news, as the rumor-loving crowd gradually moved on to the next big story.

Allie’s rocky beginning of the year was starting to fizzle out into a genuine sense of calm. With each passing day, the standard jabs and verbal provocations simmered down until all she received were the occasional stink-eye from Harry and his mates and maybe some hushed slurs from the homophobic crowd which, coincidentally, was the same one.

For the most part, however, she was starting to get treated with outright indifference, for lack of a better term, indifference she had no idea she needed, cherished, hell, even _craved_.

Allie_ basked_ in the anonymity.

It was all she wanted.

She just hoped it wasn’t the faux calm before the storm, one that had yet to come.

At the same time, she welcomed the apparent quiet with open arms.

Because every jagged piece of her _“stay out of trouble”_ plan was finally falling into place, much to Franky’s satisfaction and utter relief.

Her best (and _only_ friend within these cursed walls) should be ecstatic she hasn’t punched anyone in weeks.

She’d be lying if she said her fist didn’t itch a little.

Especially around a certain quarterback whose entire energy oozed of unspoken threats of revenge. Allie knew _that_ was coming, too, it was only a matter of _when_.

But she was working _so hard_ on her plan to quote unquote use her pride better day in and day out that she really had no room to worry about a waste of space such as the likes of Harry Smith.

No matter how strenuous of a task it was proving to be.

That also implied using her spare time in a more productive, non-conflictual manner.

After she overcame the initial impulse to grumble and complain, she started attending those mandatory counseling sessions that felt like AA for former drug addicts religiously. Even more, she was already talking about emancipation with the folks at the shelter, pondering upon possible job options and assessing her skill-set which was surprisingly extensive, for someone of her background.

Franky _was_ right about her – maybe she didn’t have _“academic smarts”_ but she sure as hell had _“street smarts.”_

Although the program was offering some sort of monthly income for her which enabled her not to look like a hobo anymore, outfits-wise, she still didn’t want to feel like a freeloader.

That and…she was a _very _skilled person, self-bragging aside. She could earn her fair share of the world quite easily and without assistance, too, thank you very much. Because she was an independent woman and a flawless entrepreneur.

Case in point? She was already starting a side business.

Object of activity? Writing academic essays for money.

Target audience? Stupid people.

Stupid people with _a lot _of money to spare, apparently.

Let’s just say her service was in crazy demand - turns out her academic smarts weren't that shabby, either.

Maybe that helped with the rumors dying down a little, too. She was becoming the _“useful”_ drug addict now. _Indispensable _even.

That and making the easiest money of her life. Who knew?

From her limited business knowledge, it wasn’t her fault the demand created the supply, not her fault she was surrounded by filthy rich (albeit _incredibly dumb) _people. She was merely providing a much needed service…because she _cared._

About the future of education in Australia, of course.

Should’ve chosen this over prostitution ages ago.

Less gross, too…

At their very apex, Allie’s entrepreneurial daydreams were bluntly interrupted by the sound of Franky plopping down unceremoniously on the seat facing her.

That… and stealing one of the fries off her plate.

_Without_ asking, of course.

“Can I have one of those?” – Allie mocked, not even halfway tearing her gaze off the notes in front of her or the phone in her right hand. “Sure, Franky, thanks for asking like a normal human, help yourself.”

Her tattooed friend merely smirked.

“So we’re asking for permission from each other to do things now?” – Franky laughed, incredulously. “You’re no boss of me, _Novak_, but nice try.”

Allie rolled her eyes, this time offering all of her fries without being prompted.

She wasn’t hungry anymore – she had a business to run. Food could wait.

“So…” – Franky smiled slyly in between very ungraceful mouthfuls. “Is all this shit I’m hearing true, _Jeff Bezos?_”

“I have no idea what you’re on about, _chatty._” – Allie retorted absentmindedly, too busy scribbling down notes to see Franky’s smirk stretch even further. “Now could you move a little? You’re in my light—“

“I have to say, _Novak,_ as much as I envy your grey morality _and _outstanding business sense, that’s not what I meant about staying out of trouble and fitting in.” – Franky crossed her arms, still amused, not making a single effort to move.

She was blocking the _only _ray of light (disregarding her fine presence, of course) peeking in through the windows and into the cafeteria intentionally. Because she liked to watch the world burn _and _annoy Allie.

Aside from student body president duties, she considered _that_ a top daily priority.

“Which is why…” – Franky cleared her throat, dramatically, this time leaning back a little. “I signed you up for creative writing and music.”

“You did _what_ now?” – Allie’s eyes shot up from her notes with staggering speed, so much so that Franky could have sworn she just broke a neck vertebra or something.

Clearly unfazed, the brunette laughed again, receiving a glare that could have turned her into a stone statue on sight. If looks could kill, that is..

“There are plenty of great clubs and optionals at this fine educational establishment, _Novak_.” – Franky countered with excessive formality, as if she was unconsciously convincing herself of that truth.

Maybe she drank the kool-aid, too. Or maybe she was genuinely trying to help – Allie was too busy plotting her murder and accurate disposal of her body to figure out which was which.

“You just have to be a willing participant. It’s gonna look good for your future college apps, for the program and for your general reputation here.”

“And you didn’t see fit to ask me first?” – the blonde scoffed, still not making a single dent in Franky’s all-knowing smirk. If anything, her frustration seemed to make it spread…

“I knew you’d say no, _moody._” – Franky leaned over the table, ruffling Allie’s hair on purpose with near motherly affection. “I take that back – _afro_ moody. Seriously, get a haircut sometime, it’s like 20 bucks—“

“I swear to God—“

“And…a little birdie told me you’re musically savy and not a horrible writer. Yeah, I read some of your shit while you were in the gym, had to keep myself busy, y'know how it is--”

“You went through my stuff, _too?_” – Allie cradled her notebook closer to her chest with something akin to protectiveness, carefully hidden underneath blasting anger. “Unbelievable. Have you _ever _heard about privacy, _Big Brother?_”

“I’m trying to get to know you, _moron_, so I can help you blend in and you’re not exactly making it easy.” – Franky clarified with mild annoyance in her tone, not even halfway apologetic about any of it. Because, to her mind, the end justified the means. “Thank god Jesse was more than happy to chat with me—“

“Now you’re interviewing my friends at the shelter, too?” – Allie scoffed again. “Jeez, what’s next, installing a camera in my shower?”

“As much as the prospect entices me…” – Franky wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing the blonde to mimic a puke attack. “Ain’t nobody got time for that. Now finish _whatever _it is you’re doing and chop chop, can’t be late for our first music class together.”

“You’re not actually serious about this, are you?” – Allie asked, rhetorically and fearfully. She had no time to stop and wonder why the brunette would even be in this class in the first place – she hardly seemed like the musical type.

Franky’s subsequent poker face was enough of an answer.

Another loud, defeated exhale and Allie reluctantly complied – she barely had time to stand up or react, for that matter, because Speedy Gonzales over here had already thrown the rest of her food in the trash, shoved all of her notebooks in her bag and grabbed her by the arm – needless to say,_ not_ gently.

All of that whilst whispering a very suggestive _“Come on, Novak…won’t be that lonely in there. My best friend and your arch nemesis is in this class, too, you know, wink wink nudge nudge.”_

_Arch nemesis?_

Unfortunately for Allie’s delayed reflexes, she wasn’t quick enough to protest or refute any of that, either. Speedy Gonzales once again shoved her into the still empty classroom and forcefully sat her ass down, all the while clarifying how much of a _“pretty ass_” it actually was.

This time, Allie _did_ react - she smacked her over the back of the head.

In her defense, she wasn’t lying – her fist _had_ been itching for some action.

For weeks now, to be exact.

Whilst waiting for the class to get filled by more pimple-ridden, asymmetrical faces, Allie resorted to dropping her head on the desk on top of her folded hands like a lazy cat, not before telling Franky, with all the sarcasm she could muster:

_"Wake me up when September ends.”_

The clever musical pun was not missed in the slightest by the smirking brunette.

Something told her she made the right choice.

And when she yelled _“Yo, Red” _across the room at the very confused redhead who just walked in and waved back awkwardly, before making her way through the crowd and sitting down somewhere far ahead next to some blonde, it wasn’t lost on Franky that the _other_ blonde next to her reacted _instantly_, almost _viscerally._

Allie jerked her head, this time positively cracking at least 3 neck vertebrae, following Franky’s shrill cry and subsequent affectionate look like_ she_ was the one being called out…

The brunette had to bite her bottom lip to stifle a chuckle and maybe a million dirty jokes just _aching_ to be verbalized.

For a brief moment, so brief it could’ve been a figment of her imagination and perhaps on pure instinct if nothing else, Allie gazed at Bea, too, completely unaware of all the stories being created in her own.

Blinking once or twice in a starstruck haze, she looked down, a nearly imperceptible smile curling the corners of her lips, seemingly taken over by a rare moment of hesitation bordering on _shyness_..

As an uninvolved bystander, Franky could have sworn Allie had no idea what _shyness_ even was.

Until now, that is…

Maybe even Lesbian Guru got it wrong sometimes. The more she watched, the more the brunette rubbed her hands together, almost victoriously. Because _that_ was clearly not how you look at a sworn arch nemesis.

_This should be interesting._

Sensing she was caught in a fine web taking the form of a scrutinizing pair of hazel orbs glued to her profile, Allie cleared her throat then shook her head in (false) disinterest. She then followed the contour of a fly on the wall, one she was pretty sure she just created out of thin air…

For distraction purposes only…

_Not_ because she was a tortured artist or anything.

Clearly not. Tortured? For sure. Artist? Not by a long shot. She already regretted being in here.

Hell, she was already contemplating running through the door without even bothering to open it first, just bursting through head first, leaving a contour of her frame for posterity…

They do say real artists are only appreciated after their untimely passing.

Some passing out didn’t sound too bad either, now that the blonde was contemplating _that _option, too.

“Come on, _Novak_, would it kill you to make an effort for once?” – Franky groan-whispered in her ear over her shoulder, freakishly reading her every thought. “Just…be social. It ain’t that hard, y’know.”

For an extrovert, that is…

Introverts, on the other hand?

“I can’t be social.” – Allie clarified, poker face intact down to the last poker line. “I get hives.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the brunette’s chest, so lively and loud it made at least 10 other people turn around to look at her, only to be ushered away by her pointed glare. The marvelous comeback on the tip of the teen’s tongue would have to wait, as it was unceremoniously interrupted by the much-awaited arrival of…

_Holy shit._

Allie _almost_ let _that _roll off her tongue, too, but thankfully stopped at the very last minute…

Because whatever image she had of the music teacher clearly wasn’t…

_That._

A woman in her early-thirties who seemed to be dressed like an extra on Paris Fashion Week blended with some goth aesthetics (classy enough to pass as _style_, not enhanced enough to pass as late _“emo” _bloomer) walked in on a pair of tall combat boots with casual, efortless, breath-stealing elegance..

And a warm smile on her face that almost seemed _motherly._

The smallest trace of a smile made its way onto Allie’s face without her even realizing it.

She was pretty sure this was the coolest teacher she’s laid eyes on in her entire young life and even more so at _this_ Godforsaken school.

The not-so PG-13 side of her might have also exclaimed _“she’s hot.” _in a dark corner of her mind. Because at a second, more focused glance, she was observing finer, subtle details…

A sparkling pair of green eyes that saw through every nook and cranny and into the depths of your soul. An ebony mess of curls whose every contour seemed to flow gracefully with the quiet rhythm of a river stream in the middle of a virgin forest…

Okay, maybe Allie was _slightly_ poetic.

Or maybe she was suddenly…_inspired_ to wax poetically. For no reason whatsoever. Just a random strike of genius.

Unbeknownst to her, Franky was assaulting her bottom lip so hard right now, fighting the urge to grin until her face cracked.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late.” – the teacher went on to apologize, bashfully, and Allie could have sworn she just heard a choir of angels in her head.

Because she was already treating this class like a friendly get-together, no formalities, no stick-up-the-ass _anything _about her, which she couldn’t say about the rest of the authority figures she’s met around here so far, from teachers to the school director himself.

The blonde was positively smitten.

“It takes forever to find parking around here.” – Sparkly Eyes whined, blowing a strand of hair away gracefully, in slow-motion even. “If only_ some_ teachers wouldn’t take two spots, amirite?”

By now, Allie was already picturing a pair of majestic wings on her…

And a halo. _Definitely_ a halo.

“Mr. Thompson’s at it again, huh?” – some random guy out back intervened.

“Yeah, he’s gonna get a mouthful at home for sure. It’s not like we took driving lessons in the same place or anything.” – she laughed, cheerfully...

And Allie crashed like a ton of bricks.

Because Franky waited for this precise moment to clarify that…

Mr. Thompson was Angel Wings’ husband.

Illusion? _Shattered._

Franky’s smartass grin? Intact and still ready to split her face in half.

“Anyways…now that I’m here the party can start.” – the teacher added, resuming her spot at the desk out front, about the same moment Allie resumed her earlier action, too – placing her fallen head on her folded hands like a lazy cat again..”But don’t get too excited.”

Scratch that – a _heartbroken,_ lazy cat.

“As you all know, like every year, I’m looking to put together some unwilling volunteers to torture..”

This time, when the teacher laughed again, Allie’s grimace turned sour…

Because she was a sore loser and all…

“And by torture I mean select for our winter formal performance and many other pompous artsy events where all the fancy music snobs I know get together. I’ll be more than happy to put you on all of those stages, if you’re ready to impress me, put in the hours and work for it. Now, if you remember correctly, not only does that give you extra credit, it looks great on your future college app’s and it definitely impresses the scouts that are almost always lurking in the audience…”

By this point, Allie had positively tuned out of this monologue and class, eyes closing, lazy, unimpressed cat mode back on…

The last thing on her mind these days was making a splash…

“I am urging interested parties to apply by the end of the class by signing your name for future auditions on the sheet of paper I’ll pin to that lovely door over there…It’s not mandatory but I highly recommend you think about it. As for the school band – if you’ve been in it last semester, you’re automatically still in it now, unless you’ve changed your mind which I hope you didn’t. For your sake and my ears’ sake…”

This time, the entire class burst into synchronized laughter…

“Oh and, before I forget and get carried away with the boring introductory announcements…” – the teacher broke eye contact to re-focus on the mass of scattered papers on her desk that didn't seem to have any order whatsoever. “I don’t believe we have any newcomers…”

If Allie wasn’t still _slightly _heartbroken, she’d find her disorganized, disheveled tendencies downright endearing…

Maybe even _sexy._

“Or…do we?” – the teacher pretended to gasp, dramatically…

And Allie heard every sound clearly as if a needle had just dropped to the floor…

But not _this_ floor. The floor of her brain that could really use a fresh coat of varnish…

“Do we have a Ms. _Novak?_ Allie…_Vanessa _Novak?”

_Vanessa?_

A giddy Franky barely covering her mouth to stop herself from cry-laughing anime-style just made a mental note to tease her about _that _later…

Because she just realized her unlikely and unwilling friend’s initials were A.V.

Maybe she should have signed her up for A.V. Club, instead. Nerdier. More her speed.

Speaking of speed…her suddenly deathly pale and deathly quiet blonde pal made no effort to acknowledge her name being called out…

So Franky did her duty, again. Because someone had to.

Wasting no time, she promptly shot Allie back from la-la land with a not-so-gentle nudge to her side…

“Y-yeah, uh…that’s…” – Allie cleared her throat, swallowed the lump stuck in it then awkwardly stood up. “That’s me.”

Inwardly, she was already chanting…

_Not this shit again._

Being the new kid really sucked sometimes.

“Lovely to meet you, Ms. Novak. Welcome to music class.” – Angel Wings bowed down a little in Allie’s direction, then shot her a friendly, brilliant smile that could have melted her entirely…”I am Mrs. Adelman.”

Okay so maybe she had a _slight_ crush.

“T-thank you.” – Allie stuttered out, scratching the back of her neck with one hand, before switching her weight from one foot to the other. She was just about to sit back down when Angel Wings’ angel voice stopped her dead in her tracks…

“So, what made you decide to join us here today, Ms. Novak?”

“W-well I uh..actually I—“

“I signed her up, _teach_.” – Franky’s less-pleasant, far-from-angelic, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice cut in, its scratchy tone making Allie flinch a little. “I think _Vanessa_ over here…”

If looks could kill, the brunette would be squirming in agony on the floor right about now..

“….would be a very valuable asset to this class.”

“Really?” – the teacher raised a quizzical eyebrow, clearly amused by the sisterly pair before her shooting daggers between each other, each sharper than the previous one. “Would you mind expanding on that, Ms. Doyle_?_”

“Not at all. You see…” – Franky stepped back a little in her chair, theatrically. “_Vanessa _is a very accomplished musician, actually—“

“It’s Allie—“

_You fucking tone-deaf buffoon._

No pun intended, of course.

Successfully embarrassing her to a mortifying degree, the brunette was close to making an even stronger PR case for her lucky friend, when the teacher mercifully pulled her out of her misery…

“Then why don’t you break the ice first, _Ms. Doyle_?” – Mrs. Adelman proposed, casually on surface, if it wasn't for the subtlest hint of a smirk setting on her plump lips. “Set a positive example for our newcomers…?”

“I think that’s a great idea, Mrs. Adelman.” – Allie added, smugly, this time sitting down and inwardly chanting victory.

But Franky had another ace up her sleeve…

“The kind of instruments I usually play can’t be found in this room_, teach—“_

Or the kind of strings she usually pulled, to be exact…

“Oh, Ms. Doyle…” – Mrs. Adelman retorted sternly, sympathetically and dejectedly, all at once. “And I _really_ hoped we could start off one semester without a verbal warning…”

“Maybe third time’s the charm, huh?” – Franky _tried_…

But groveling was no use, if past experiences were any indicator to go by.

“Nice try…but no. Now I advise you to play nice so there’s no written warning to follow that.”

“Got it, _teach_…”

The brunette would have to sit back down and lick her wounds, too…

Just when Allie thought the depths of her embarrassment couldn’t sink any further, the universe decided to plummet them into the Mariana Trench, no heads-up given…

“So, _Allie,_ is it?”

With that gentle call-out, the teacher's full attention was back on her, alongside at least a dozen nosy faces and watchful, hawk-like gazes…

“Would you mind sharing those musical talents with us after all?”

The blonde was pretty sure she knew at least one horror movie that started out like this.

And Allie could have sworn her hands have just started sweating buckets as if someone turned on a tap…

The fact that Bea’s intrigued, exploring gaze singled itself out in her head all on its own, cut through the crowd like a laser beam and crossed her face with the undemanding energy of a gentle summer breeze didn’t help her anxiety in the slightest…

“Can you play a musical instrument? Or are you a vocalist…?” – the teacher tried again, taking the teen’s prolonged silence and lack of reply as a sign of covert nervousness.

She wasn’t wrong.

“I um…” – Allie played with her nails unconsciously, before pulling at one of her sleeves to cover her hands even more just as they came to fold against each other. It was an anxious tick she couldn’t remember when she picked up, just that she couldn’t shake it off. “Piano. A little. Nothing major.”

What a high-strung, distracted Allie failed to mention was that she was a self-taught musician and vocalist…

That her _only_ piano knowledge was acquired on an old, beat-down keyboard hidden in her abusive mother’s closet in between endless fights that her parents had downstairs every night, with the synchronicity of a sick tradition…

That her _only_ solace was plugging some earphones in and practicing _whatever_ in the dead of night, just to keep herself from hearing their voices and angry shouting piercing through her mind and heart like a cold blade, more nausea-inducing than any withdrawal symptoms that she could remember…

That when she got kicked out into the street, her only regret was _not_ holding on to that old, beat down keyboard…

Unfortunately for her, she was kicked out with only the clothes on her back…

It wasn’t lost on Bea, of all people, that Allie, this blonde, peculiar girl she barely knew looked miles away from here, like she wasn’t even in this room anymore. To everyone else, she probably appeared to be an airhead - nonchalant, uninvolved, inattentive. To her, on the other hand, something about Allie’s energy seemed almost…_lost, _like she was going somewhere right this second that no one knew but her…

For some reason, Bea suspected it wasn’t a pretty place…

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it….but in between preoccupied flickers of absent blue, Allie also looked _scared._

Whatever place she was creating right now, it had to be one she wanted to escape from…

One she needed _saving_ from.

“Mind playing something for us then, Ms. Novak?”

“W-what?”

And it was only when she heard this gentle interruption that Allie seemed to return to the present moment…

“I um…I mean….”– Allie stuttered, her previous anxiety still pulling her under, doubled down by a touch of _nostalgia_. “Do I have to?”

Because maybe a carefully hidden part of her _ached_ to feel the cold touch of plastic underneath her fingertips, the sometimes harmonious, sometimes chaotic fusion of sounds that used to bring her peace or sink her further into the depths of war…

You never knew, with music.

You never knew, with a life like hers.

You never knew what the next day would bring.

So if one moment of disconnect was all you’d get, you’d make damn sure to hold on to it.

“It would help me assess you better, _Ms. Novak_, see what to recommend for you further, refer you to beginner classes or assign you to a group. We have two bands formed already and some individual performers in here…there’s always room for more, just gotta work with me for a bit, can you do that?”

Wheels still spinning in her head, ticking slower than a broken clock, Allie eventually nodded in absent understanding…

“That and…your grades look like they could use all the extra credit…”

Before laughing, this time genuinely…

And when she heard it vibrate against her chest, she realized she hasn’t laughed in forever…

“There’s no pressure, just show us whatever you can remember and follow along.”

“Okay…”

_Way to go, Vanessa._

She didn’t even hear Franky’s supportive teasing in her ear, didn’t even feel the slightest push against her back from that same brunette who couldn’t have looked like more of a proud momma…

All she had was the sound of her own steps, clumsy and unpracticed against cold, concrete floors that eerily resembled those of her old room, marching to the same beat of her thudding heart, like she only now learned how to walk…

If only she could learn how to breathe again, too…

Inhale, exhale…

Dipping her head self-consciously, with the avid curiosity of a child in a toy-store, Allie watched the grand piano before her eyes in soundless marvel, eager to trace every cold, untouched key that seemed to call her name and yet so hesitant, so uncertain, as if she wasn’t _allowed _to…

She felt so unworthy of even being near something so expensive, capable of producing such beauty.

Everything _she_ wasn’t.

Inhale, exhale…

And Allie sat down.

Everything else stopped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The song Allie played -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCIB2SNiyRs
> 
> It’s very important that you listen to it and keep it in mind…it’s gonna be a catalyst for the entire story. 😊

Allie was positive everyone around expected her to flunk this impromptu performance. To most if not all onlookers, she probably seemed like the type of person to fail at everything. And maybe she was…on a regular day.

But not at _this. _

The moment she felt the cold, eerily comforting touch of plastic resembling the texture of velvet underneath her fingertips as she sat down, a chill ran down her spine, bordering between pleasant and unnerving…

Maybe a gust of wind from the past, maybe the weight of everything it began to unfreeze in her, coming undone in waves…

The contrasting display of black and white before her held a foreign, but nevertheless elevating energy, until it scaled up into a strong sense of déjà-vu…like a stairwell you remember climbing at some point, not quite sure how you got there…or even what the next step into the unknown would look like…

For Allie, all it took was that one, _fateful_ first step into the light.

And the rest of the path was unraveled.

Before she could process the action consciously or ask herself where she was going, what she was even heading towards, the tune snapped itself into existence as if a director had just yelled _“action”_ before an awaiting audience…

Summoned then and there was the movie of her life - expectedly tragic and cataclysmic, unexpectedly, bitter-sweetly hopeful.

It broke free from within a contained space in her mind she had no idea was even alive and breathing anymore, only to be clumsily rendered by slender, shaky fingers.

It started out timidly - fractured, unpracticed and slightly off-tempo, note after note of weak, choked cries for help, regretful and evocative, only to grow into a roaring crescendo that rendered the entire audience silent…

No one said a word anymore.

It was Allie’s turn to speak…

And Bea had no idea how and why…

But it was _her_ time to listen.

Stirringly captured, she stood there, motionless, following the blonde’s fingers as they slid across each key gracefully, delivering note after note of cautious, at times passionate melody. Unaware of her own behavior, Bea's mouth parted with something akin to a suppressed gasp that no one heard.

Because, from her limited observational skills and interactions with the blonde, everything about Allie screamed rebellious, chaotic, disorderly, hell, even defiant, from gestures to posture…

Absolutely_ everything_.

From physical retaliation as a response to conflict, to the aggressive verbal jabs meant to keep the entire world at bay, doubled by sarcastic undertones covering up years upon years of trauma and self-denial..

_Everything_ about Allie screamed caged warrior.

Aside from her playing.

It spelled bird set free.

Like the proverbial phoenix, spreading its wings, learning how to fly again…

It was a beautiful sight to behold, if only you had eyes to see and ears to listen…

All it took was mere seconds to switch something in Allie, something tangible that the entire room could feel. Her playing was so_ goddamn_ structured now, like Allie had slowly but surely remembered, as if she never even forgot, so beautiful and poetic, it had heart and order and sensitivity…

Everything you’d _never_ imagine someone like her to have.

The song couldn’t have lasted more than a minute but the more Bea watched, the more star-struck she became….because how could _one_ person be both, all at once? Chaos and order. Coarseness and fragility. Broken and whole.

Why did it feel like it was unraveling something in _her_, instead?

Why did it seem to awaken the hidden warrior in her, _too?_ Neglected, barely alive…

There was something about her rhythm that froze Bea in place whilst calling out to her, all at once, similar to a current pulling you under gently, no hint of danger, fear, aggression, one you almost allow to sweep over you completely with no trace of resistance, welcome it even, give yourself to it so willingly…

Everything she was so unaccustomed to.

By now, every fiber of her being was fighting against it, against _whatever_ the image before her seemed to do to her, of all people…it was something she had no name for…

All she knew was that it was _powerful_.

And she was powerless.

She_ hated_ being powerless.

So much so that she couldn’t breathe normally anymore - whatever pattern her lungs followed now felt as foreign as the sight before her.

_I just want you._

Ominous or predestined, no one knew…

No one had any idea what Allie was playing…

Least of all Bea..

All she knew was that it was haunting, subtly morose and eerily romantic…

It felt like a blend of contrasts coming together, just like she was - solemn and softly passionate, honest and uplifting, a promise of hope in the middle of a broken down home, the loving hand someone lends you when the entire world had doomed you, that first ray of sunshine after pouring rain…

No one had any idea it was far less glamorous than a Beethoven piece or any other well-known classics this room was so accustomed to hearing, in actuality furthest from that…

_I just want you…_

_Arranged by Robert Duncan for the TV show Castle._

There was nothing glamorous or impressive about a TV show theme she learned by ear_…_

But somehow, right here, right now, she was making it sound like it was _more_…like it was…

_Important._

Even if perhaps not to the same extent, the performance seemed to move more than one soul, carry even the most unimpressed of the bunch into a state of temporary disconnect…like time stood still awaiting _something_….an answer to the question she created with that first keystroke, eager to be found and communicated with the next…

Maybe time didn’t change or freeze but, at the very least, it flowed differently, in a slower, more focused rhythm…

Allie seemed to be _creating_ something.

Inventing _something._

And it was more than _just_ music.

It was more than her unique approach to playing it.

It was _something_ that seemed to strike Bea the most of everyone present, with the staggering force and intensity of a lightning she never saw coming. It seemed to pull a string in her she had no clue even existed, let alone was so fragile, tethering on the edge of snapping in half…

There was no foreboding clap of thunder to be heard before, no gathering of dark clouds against former sunny skies, no warning…nothing that could have prepared her for this…

Because, for those 60 seconds or less…

All she saw was Allie.

And all she heard was the sound of her melody, flowing like a lullaby.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from her and everything that she was at this very moment, frozen in time also or maybe painting itself in Bea's mind, present and vivid.

Allie was creating an entire symphony only _she_ could decipher the way it was meant to be deciphered...and she probably didn't even know it. She couldn’t stop following every practiced move of her fingers, every elegant slide across the keys, no matter how restless and _frightened_ she was growing inside.

Because _no one_ had ever unraveled something so powerful in her…

So…._unstoppable._

To everyone else, she seemed calm and collected and, on the outside, she probably was, but little did she know - a warzone was brewing on the inside.

Parts of her _ached_ to surrender and throw away the guns she had no idea she’s been carrying around in the first place, parts of her _almost _admitted defeat. Because it felt like coming home…when all the doors you’ve ever walked through had barely led you into a makeshift house.

This was what Allie was creating, what Allie was tearing down - old walls, gently asking new ones to emerge from the ashes.

But Bea couldn’t be a Phoenix, too, not for her…or for anybody.

And when the last foreboding sound died down, something _died_ inside of her, too.

But she couldn’t ask her to revive it.

So she didn’t.

The curtain had just been lifted almost cruelly and the performance ended…

And with it, so did everything else.

“I um…”

Bea blinked once or twice, snapping back to Earth, as a lump formed in her throat, one she tried to swallow to no avail because she still felt it there, pulsating…

Her heart sunk in her chest, mournfully, beats coming in an erratic mix of fear and bewilderment…

She was _scared_ and she had no idea why.

“It’s….it’s all I have.”

Like a bell ringing, Allie’s hesitant voice came - a second wake-up call that pulled her from her reverie, much too soon…because whatever walls Allie had previously broken down were now coming back up, mightier than ever…

And for some reason, Bea was growing_ angry_ at her…

For everything she just did.

“It’s not very impressive but I don’t remember anything else…”

So much so that she was completely blocking her voice now....like she couldn’t stand to hear it.

So much so that she wasn’t even looking in her general direction anymore.

Bea was back to square one… because it was decided, right then…

Allie didn’t rattle anything in her.

Allie didn’t _change_ her.

Whatever she just felt…

_Didn’t_ happen.

“T-there was a uh…” – Allie cleared her throat, as the quiet gradually lifted and some rattling of papers was heard from the classroom, followed by mixed appreciative claps from her peers and a loud whistle from Franky. “A violin in there, too, so really it sounds empty without it—“

She truly believed that - the song was designed as a dialogue…

And she only delivered a monologue now.

It was…_incomplete._

“Where did you learn that, Ms. Novak?”

“Uhhh…youtube…?”

An automatic answer for her…and a reveal of her not-so-polished self for the others. Predictably so, indistinct snickers and eye-rolls from her snobbish classmates followed.

Youtube - the peasant network. Fleeting appreciation? Gone.

“Mind expanding on that?”

“I heard it on a TV show…guess I just picked it up?”

More accurately put, listened to on repeat until something clicked…

It wasn’t like Allie had many other extracurricular activities…and it sure was a better soundtrack that what she had going on at home.

“You’re not formally trained?”

“N-no, I mean….w-why….?” – Allie replied, quizzically, this time halfway turning around in her seat to face the equally surprised teacher gazing her way. She then looked around the room some more, finding perplexity and silent judgment staring back at her.

Once again, she was the odd one out.

“Is everyone here…?”

The silence only confirmed it…

It shouldn’t surprise her – most of the kids here were rich and privileged, probably the offspring of former Ivy League parents who were going through life with a #Yolo attitude and a trust fund…some might have even been forced into taking music lessons before even learning how to walk…

Clearly not something she could say about herself.

“But you can follow sheet music, right, Ms. Novak?”

And if she felt like the odd one out just now….at this very second all she wanted was a hole to sink into…

Because she knew what the real answer would do to her.

“No…I can’t…”

Throw all of her anonymity efforts straight out the window and plunge her already stellar reputation even further into the ground.

Mocking whispers and covert, nearly incredulous laughter followed, on cue....because, apparently, _that _was an embarrassment amongst her rich, more gifted peers. Not having learned such a basic thing because of heartbreaking circumstances, on the other hand…?

Irrelevant to all of the sharks before her – not when they have just smelled blood.

“Quiet, everyone…” – Mrs. Adelman reprimanded, features contorting with a flash of pure..._anger?_

Unbothered and unfazed, Allie didn’t as much as blink, head shaking ever-so-slightly, shoulders still in a relaxed pose. She was getting used to it by now. But she could have sworn she just saw a hint of _motherly _care in the teacher’s gestures, like she was protecting the unwanted, problem child everyone was trying to have a go at. 

“Do I really have to give you _the speech_ again?”

Maybe she was.

“What’s one thing we don’t do in this class, can someone tell me?”

_Now_ the quiet turned monumental…

If a pen dropped to the floor, it would sound like an asteroid.

“Come on, don’t be shy, it’s the 101, the first thing I said to you when I walked through these doors…what _don’t _we do?”

“R-reprimand mistakes?”

In a guilty, shy tone, the unnaturally tall, nerdish kid Allie recognized from her English Lit class intervened, like another problem child that was being scolded…

The blonde smiled – least she wasn’t the only one now.

“Exactly. Least of all in music – where would we even be without mistakes? Where would _all _of you be without mistakes? You think Hendrix never messed up a riff? Even the greatest of the greats were beginners at some point.”

A preoccupied Bea’s ears perked up instinctively at this precise statement... as if she needed it to be directed at her, instead.

She loved Mrs. Adelman’s liberal approach to music. It was drastically different from that of her parents. And come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time _she_ was allowed to mess up without being berated or punished for it in some way.

“So…Ms. Novak – I’ll make sure you pick up the ropes on that. It's not a big deal. You obviously have a good ear, you only need some basic theory and technique. As for the rest of you, I expect you to sign up for the auditions. And to give you a little incentive and because I care about the voice of the people….I invite you to write your top 3 picks for songs you’d like to play in future performances – classic or modern, doesn’t matter, those with the most picks might also be drafted and considered for the winter formal.”

“Uhh…'scuse me, teach?” – Franky broke the ice unprompted, as always, lifting a finger in the air. “Any restrictions on lyrical content?”

“Before you continue that idea any further, Ms. Doyle, no, _Baby Got Back_ is not an eligible option in this class. And it might come with a written warning, too.”

Franky smirked – she’d have to cross _that_ masterpiece off her list.

“Any other questions?”

Insert the sound of a lone fly buzzing on the walls…

Apparently not…

Allie took it as a cue to step away from the piano…

She cracked her knuckles then sighed in relief, thankful to be out of the spotlight…she unknowingly found herself put on the spot too many times already for her comfort. As she plopped back down on the seat, an overly affectionate Franky gave her a side hug, messed up her hair then proceeded to whisper _her_ idea of generous praise into her ear…

_Oh wow, you just Kelly-ed the Clarkson out of everybody._

_I didn’t know you had such magic fingers…_

_Wouldn’t mind a private concert, Vanessa---_

Thankfully, the rest of the class was too focused on Mrs. Adelman scribbling notes down on the blackboard and starting her lesson to hear Franky writhe in pain…because Allie may or may not have wounded her.

_Deeply._

_Repeatedly. _

In all understandings of the phrase.

The rest of the class continued without major incidents, leaving Allie to resort to what she was doing before - ignoring Doyle and counting flies on the wall, occasionally catching bits and pieces of the lesson but not caring enough to listen from start to finish…

She was more of a practical learner.

And she also happened to get bored easily and lack focus, hence her subpar academic performance in general – try as she might, she could only do things halfway if she just didn’t care about them. And she really, _really _couldn’t bring herself to care about school, aside from the occasional bite size chunks.

Allie cared far more about her previous, marvelous activity. She would have even continued it, hell, inside she was already congratulating the brave fly she just followed for doing acrobatic circles on a desk far right, before flying out the window into much needed freedom…

_Good on you, little fella. Take me with you._

If it wasn’t for a particular someone’s demeanor catching her eye…

It was unplanned…

Still, she couldn’t help but see it, as if it was glaringly obvious, even asking to be taken notice of..

In reality, it was rather subtle - Bea's strangely agitated and fidgety demeanour was seemingly coming from nowhere. 

She was shifting in her seat a bit more than usual, pretending to listen to the lecture but not quite, fixing her hair almost compulsively whilst gazing out the window in deep thought, checking her wristwatch every 10 seconds like she was dying to be anywhere but here…

And Allie noticed…

Not because she was looking in that particular direction or anything.

But because it seemed so out of character for someone so composed, so put together, so freakishly organized on a regular day…

** _What is her deal?_ **

Before the blonde could get any answer to her internal inquiry…

“Class dismissed.”

God spoke, instead.

Alas…saved by the bell.

“You’re free to go.”

Predictably so, Bea was the first to stand up and head for the door, quickly followed by the rest of their classmates shuffling around, restless to leave too, but for a whole different set of reasons…

Allie shook her head dismissively, a hint of silent amusement tugging at her lips…

“Except for you Ms. Novak…”

Amusement now dying down, breath by breath. She was just about to do the same, when her head spun up in surprise, hearing her name get called out…again. With an exasperated sigh, Allie dropped her bag back down on the desk…

Meanwhile, Bea was already by the doorway, _aching_ to bolt…

Until…

“And…Ms. White….?”

_Ms. White?_

“Could I have a word with you, too?”

If Allie was drinking anything right about now, she would have spat it out all over herself…

Because apparently that was Bea’s last name.

The opportunity for a million dumb jokes was right there, etched onto the blonde’s lips….but she’d have to refrain…because it just wouldn’t _bea the white thing_ to do right now.

What Allie had no way of knowing was that Bea was also…the teacher’s pet, who couldn’t say _no _to anything she asked. Not even with a loaded gun pointed to her head, seconds away from firing.

But the smirking blonde sure was about to find out.

“Ms. Novak….could you please write down the name of the song you just played? I’d like an audition…”

“Uh yeah, s-sure …”

The smirk faltered from the blonde’s lips as she gingerly took the offered pen from the teacher’s grasp, then focused on the task at hand, dutifully…

“Y-you can still find it on Youtube, I’ll bet.”

True to her unspoken promise, she was a well-behaved child now…

Another well-behaved child, a meek Bea stopped dead in her tracks, too, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, before hesitantly turning on her heel and moving closer, glance switching between Allie and the teacher…

She didn’t intend to, but she vaguely caught bits and pieces of a conversation that didn’t seem to have anything to do with her…

“You said something about a violin, right, Ms. Novak?”

“Y-yeah, I think…a bunch of them, maybe an orchestra…why?”

“Uh…Mrs. Adelman, sorry to interrupt but why am I here?” – Bea pointed at herself, eventually, shifting her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly…

And Allie thought that confused grimace settling on her every feature made her look almost…

_Cute?_

“It’s just that, I have gym practice s-so would you mind making this quick—“

“Don’t worry, _Ms. White_, I’ll talk to your coach, you’re already excused from next period…”

Allie could have sworn she just heard a gentle sigh of relief escaping the redhead’s lips, perhaps even seen the movement along with the sound. Not because she was gazing in that particular direction or anything, either.

_Weird. _

You wouldn’t exactly picture Bea as the type of person to be thrilled at the prospect of skipping the gym….she packed some serious guns…and it didn’t leave much to the imagination that she probably sported abs of steel, too. Abs Allie was currently not thinking about.

Not in the slightest. Not even casually.

“And so are you for that matter, Ms. Novak…”

Only when the teacher turned to her did Allie realize where her mind had wandered off to…

She cleared her throat awkwardly, too…

“Though you don’t seem that worried or eager to make it on time—“

Busted. Guilty as charged.

Allie didn’t even know_ what _class she had next, let alone when…

She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, catching Bea steal a thoughtful, fugitive glance of her profile before staring back down, so swiftly Allie could have imagined it…dreamt it even..

As if she just caught _herself _doing it, too.

“So….have a seat, ladies.” – Mrs. Adelman offered with a theatrical sweep of her hand and a slight bow, nonverbally urging the reluctant pair to pick up some chairs and move them closer to the piano.

Her background in Performance Arts showed, alright, from head to toe, speech to style.

“I’ll start with you, Ms. Novak…” – the teacher interrupted Allie’s very important activity once more – watching another fly doing acrobatic circles on the wall or maybe creating it herself for distraction purposes. “What you just did there was _brilliant.”_

Her head shifted upwards instantly and a shy smile blossomed on her face, giving her already youthful features an innocent, child-like glow.

Because her ego_ always_ responded, even when the rest of her brain was chilling in the backseat.

“And I think you could one day do it on a bigger stage.”

_Do what on a bigger what now?_

“I’m sorry…w-what?”

If only Allie knew….it wasn’t just _her_ thought.

A stage? What an outrageous proposition.

“I uh…I don’t know what to say about that—“

“How about you don’t let it inflate your ego too much?”

“Right…”

Too much being keywords. Point taken.

“But you have to learn sheet music and you have to be able to follow it to a T…”

Allie opened her mouth, meaning to _protest_…

“That is non-negotiable in this class…”

Before closing it in defeat…

She was already contemplating dropping out, if that was the case. Maybe she wasn’t such a well-behaved child after all.

In her defense, she truly didn’t need the extra stress and hassle. She was no music snob like the rest of them…it was just a hobby, nothing more, nothing less. And, above all, music was supposed to be _fun_.

Not…_academic._

“Knowledge and technique is what sets apart amateurs from true performers…and we’re trying to identify and showcase the latter.”

Freakishly so, the teacher’s arguments seemed to come like an answer to all of her unspoken thoughts. They also made sense, as much as the blonde hated to admit it.

Bea, on the other hand? She was growing impatient, tapping her foot rhythmically to the floor in mild annoyance….what did this conversation have to do with _her_, again?

“Which leads me to you, Ms. White..”

Speaking of mind reading…

“W-what about me?”

“That’s your job. I’m assigning you to teach Ms. Novak the basics of musical theory and how to read sheet music in time for the winter formal…”

_“What?”_

_“W-what?”_

Maybe they were polar opposites in all understandings of the phrase on a regular day…

But Bea and Allie’s twin expressions could have been cut from the same cloth right about now…

The universe just clashed on its head.

“If I could afford to hold back the class for just one minute, I would, but in between holding auditions and trying not to lose my head organizing the winter formal to make it appealing enough for the scouts, I’m on a very tight schedule. But I trust that’s a task you could handle, right, Ms. White, bring our newest talent up to speed?”

_Talent?_

A dumbstruck Bea bit her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, then nodded, absently…

“I am also strongly urging you to audition the song Ms. Novak just played…”

“W-why?”

“You’re a violin player, right?”

“W-well yeah but that’s a piano piece—“

Bea_ still_ didn’t get what this entire conversation had to do with her…

Aside from babysitting amateur musical kid over here, of course...who oddly seemed a little less smug than before, too.

And because Bea was so enraptured in everything that transpired in her a near lifetime ago, she hasn’t heard a single word of what Allie said before - about only having delivered the monologue version of a song that was meant to be a dialogue.

About something…._missing._

Did that mean _Bea _was supposed to fill in the missing pieces?

“In fact, if I remember correctly, Ms. White, you’re a brilliant, award-winning, classically trained violinist.”

More accurately put, Bea had an entire room adorned with expensive golden trophies from various musical competitions boosting her parents’ ego over the years and about a decade’s worth of sweat, tears, sleep deprivation and grind to show for it…

Almost on cue, Allie rolled her eyes, meaning for the gesture to be delivered with contempt…

Instead, it came blended with just a touch of hidden admiration…

_Of bloody course the ice queen was amazing at everything._

Very, _very _hidden admiration…

You’d probably need a magnifying glass to detect it….or a microscope.

“There’s room for two on the same stage. But you’ll have to work with each other.”

Bea and Allie may or may not have gulped at the same time. Judging by this new, strange wave of tension steadily building in between the two teens…the answer was a mutual, glaring...

_No way in hell I’m working with her. _

It was inching somewhere between passive aggressive and outright aggressive again.

Neither were particularly overjoyed by the prospect of being stuck with each other…

Especially Bea…

Maybe she liked Allie as a solo performer (briefly, _whatever _touch of inspiration she momentarily drew from her was definitely fizzling out, she wasn’t even rattled anymore)…but nothing more.

“And before you ask me, that’ll give you extra credit and a stellar college reference from me, Ms. White, if everything goes well…”

Finally…an incentive.

Tempting and much needed…but it didn’t completely erase Bea’s worries…

She had more important business to worry about now - Allie had to be a professional slacker…

She couldn’t afford depending on that kind of a person for a good grade/performance…

“If you can both impress me at rehearsals, I think this song is a great candidate for an event I have planned. I can’t disclose it yet because I want to make sure you two won’t waste my time.”

Bea already suspected _someone_ was going to…

And it clearly wasn’t her…

“Ms. Novak – do you have a piano?”

“N-not really….”

“A keyboard, maybe?”

“No…”

_I’m poor as shit, lady, what do you think…_

Was what she really wanted to say…

Instead, Allie decided to step back while she still could…_diplomatically._

“As much as I appreciate your generous offer, Mrs. Adelman….”

Because she could be tactful and formal, too…piece of cake.

Just one of her many skills in life.

“I’m not a musician, I haven’t played in years, it’s a hobby so I don’t think I should be in this class at all, sorry to have wasted your time—“

Crossing her arms, Bea watched the words fall from her lips, posture and expression turning smug…least the blonde seemed to know her place.

She wasn’t ready for a karaoke session…

Let alone a real stage…

“Nonsense…it’s like riding a bike, Ms. Novak. You don’t forget the ropes that easily. Point taken, then. You’ll get a key to the music room – use this beauty anytime, just don’t mess anything up and lock up when you’re done. Feel free to come and practice here after school or anytime you want.”

Allie opened her mouth to protest again, thoughts racing erratically in search of more excuses, each more outrageous and weak than the previous one…

Her inner conflict seemed to fly right over the teacher's head, completely unnoticed or maybe purposefully ignored...

“And Ms. White…feel free to join her.”

_When hell freezes over._

This time around, it wasn’t just _her_ thought.

“You both have next period free so use the time wisely, maybe get to know each other?”

_When hell freezes over._

Again.

“And bring me something valuable I can use. I’m already losing my head just thinking of Ms. Doyle’s interpretation of Baby Got Back.”

Allie laughed out loud…and the genuine, heartfelt sound seemed to lift _some_ of the tension…

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Adelman, I can make sure that doesn’t happen. For everyone’s sake.”

“Please do, Ms. Novak.”

A microscopic smile might have fought its way onto Bea’s increasingly preoccupied visage..but it disappeared as quickly as it showed.

“Dismissed.”

As soon as they were out of sight, out of mind and out of earshot, Allie swept her bag strap over her shoulder, carefully, to avoid having about a million halfway written essays drop onto the floor. She was already contemplating using her time wisely, alright, not doing anything important for humanity but getting paid for it regardless because capitalism.

She was on the verge of throwing a courteous _“see ya”_ in Bea's direction with a slight, exaggerated bow and all-knowing smirk to go with it because Allie may or may not be a little theatrical, too…

Until a certain someone grabbed her by the wrist with a tad more aggression and force than she meant, freezing the words on the edge of her lips, trapping them in her throat, instead...

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the quarantine finally got lifted in my country, today. It put me into a writing mood :) Stay safe, beauties! <3


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